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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260444">suffice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialsoap/pseuds/dialsoap'>dialsoap</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Hades (Video Game 2018), The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller, but that is kind of a reach i think char wise i am definitely thinking about tsoa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, i did not check this at all so... who knows, i kinda hate writing in first person but i feel like with pat it is the only way to get his voice, i wouldn't call it explicit but like... you know what they are up to, maybe halfway through?, this is during the 40 days</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:08:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialsoap/pseuds/dialsoap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the Trojans are winning, no one is budging, and they’ve had more time for themselves than they have in years...</p><p>Patroclus entertains the idea of attempting to change Achilles' mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Achilles &amp; Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus of Opus (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>suffice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The war raged on, more Achaians struck down, more pyres burned with every day, but we carried on much like we always had. Suspended in our own little shelter, by our trusty Myrmidons, closer still, in our bed. Just the two of us. As we’d been as boys, and as we’d been our whole stolen adulthood. We’d bathed before, just for the sake of having time for it, rather than the usual necessity. It was odd now that he wasn’t coming home each night blood-drenched, like a second skin on him. I’d almost felt something amiss without its thick scent in the air.</p><p>We lay there wrapped up in our shared furs, in the bed that had started out as temporary and now been the one we went to every day, longer than any other. We had drunken wine, which wasn't always the case - often Achilles came back from battle just to shuck his helmet off and fall right asleep - but this time we'd taken it with our dinner, and for a while after. There were moments when we were alone in our hut, and I didn’t hear the cries of our brothers or see the smoke in the air, when I felt happy to have him to myself. Here, next to me. Instead of out there, pillaging towns and taking down men with his spear. I felt my mind wander to ridiculous notions, visions of us in Phthia, taking up his father’s halls, him strumming my mother’s lyre, voice carrying through the night. I thought of the rose-quartz cave and the first time we'd shared our bed, like before but different. As we’d done a million times since.</p><p>And yet, as long as we’d known each other I still couldn’t help but feel embarrassed with his gaze on me. His eyes green like the sea and just as powerful. Like a tempest. He stared, unblinking, as he carded a hand through my hair, before he angled forward to meet me.</p><p>Men of our world were so caught up in conquest, competition. But we were unburdened by all of that nonsense, at least here. We were equal, we were on the same side, together we could raze the world to the ground. It was something unspoken but I knew he understood. Still, when he was feeling particularly impatient, Achilles would give me a look. Times when the men were wine-mellowed and talkative, when they spoke of women, or even of men. He’d nudge me with eyes, but not give anything more away. He didn’t say it in such explicit terms, but I knew him, I knew he’d pity them if he cared enough to. They didn’t know love, only power, they only knew having some girl from a sacked village like a dog, without ever even speaking to her, asking her name. </p><p>I was not immune to their whispers, and the more I stayed with the physicians and walked around camp, the more it was impossible to. People had said the same things since we'd joined the cause. I knew what they thought of us, even with all the girls he claimed. Now, they thought we shared them, which it seemed, given a nod from Agamemnon or a shrug from a fellow soldier, was perfectly acceptable. Manly, even.</p><p>This always made him laugh, “What? So if we are a girl’s length apart that changes everything?” He said without even trying to keep his voice down, let them hear.</p><p>His expression made me consider the ridiculousness in that, and we snickered together at the stupidity of it all. Men and their trifles, it’d bring them their deaths.</p><p>As if inspired to prove them wrong, to play into the rumors, Achilles was insistent on being as close as possible tonight. Not even fabric in the way as he tore it off with blink-fast speed. I grumbled a bit at the thought of the cloth tearing but knew he was too aware of his strength to slip up. His arms went to my hair, and his lips pressed to mine.</p><p>I found myself kissing harder, which Achilles met in kind. With each kiss I felt the tension in me, all my exasperation come forth. With this war, with the cold, confusing gods up there with Zeus who ruled the skies, who seemed to treat us like their playthings, with Agamemnon for his stubbornness, with Achilles…</p><p>I pushed at him with all my might, pitching us over, even though my efforts seemed quaint to him, he gave without argument. Which just urged me on. How dare he? Not even put up a fight, be so relaxed. When there was so much wrong with everything. When I was so worried for him. So angry with him.</p><p>Chuckling, he let himself loll onto the mat as I came up onto my knees. I caught myself, momentarily struck. His golden hair, cascaded around his face, made him appear godlike. More than half-way. He looked different like this, not hidden behind metal or crusted with other men’s blood. He still looked as if he was carved in marble, perfect, unblemished, stone-smooth. But he was unmistakably alive and beaming with affection. He squinted at me, a statue come to life, and shook me from my musings.</p><p>“Patroclus...” he almost coughed out, a rare moment of lost composure. “You are beautiful.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>A debate we’d been having for nearly a decade... both too convinced, too stubborn, to give.</p><p>“You are.” He repeated, always with the last word, even if I rolled my eyes at him.</p><p>Suddenly I felt daring, like I wanted to win, beat him at something. Still buoyed by wine, I shifted to pin him down as I would in a spar, as if I’d ever had that chance.</p><p>He’d had me countless times, and I, him, we’d lived a lifetime together, even though we'd only had a fraction of one. And yet I still felt my heart spark anew, felt my eyes relearn his face, retune my ear to his voice.</p><p>I knew there was something he liked especially. About whatever it was we had here. Between us. After days and days, now years and years, of battle and praises, he found something with me that he could find nowhere else. Here we were equal, as much as he peacocked, everywhere else he was revered or envied, feared, even hated. But here he could pack his armor away for the day and give himself in.</p><p>I could not deny there was something self-satisfying in it too, being closer than anyone else on earth or heaven, in looking down at <em>Aristos Achaion</em> unarmored, eyes closed in the morning, or open wide and locked on me, for some maybe his gaze was the last thing they saw before they died, if they were quick enough to catch him. I tried not to dwell on it too much.</p><p>I felt young again, younger. In the midst of all the sadness and clipped words, in the last few days we had spent more time together than we had in years. I was still ready for him, we both were. I wrapped my hands around him, as his own slipped down my back.</p><p>"How are you, my love? Truly?” His voice came as a whisper, he meant it in this very moment, but also altogether. “You've been far away." it seemed absurd given our proximity. I could feel him beneath me, his impressive, impossibly perfect body. The finest among men, even the finest among half-gods.</p><p>"I..." I folded for him, familiar as ever. I let him find his comfort, and he knew mine.</p><p>"Truly." He said, keeping me tethered as he rubbed my hip.</p><p>"I.. I'm heartsore, I think," I admitted, I don’t know if I would have said as much at any other time. My choice of words clashed with my tone, with my surroundings. I angled my hips above him, "Every day I see more of our men... of our friends lost. And I’m not sure how much more of it I can take." gasping, I was finally atop him. He coughed, thrown by the motion or my words or both.</p><p>“This is what he agreed to when he disrespected me.” he struggled out. Still, until I started moving us, and then he came to meet my pace.</p><p>“I know that, I just...” I couldn’t put it into words. Drowning myself out, I lowered myself down to return to kissing him. My hand trailing up and down his chest. He seemed to think, or perhaps to stop being able to. But he did not give up so easily.</p><p>I’d done it now, Achilles has only just packed away his frustration for the night, as he often shed it with his armor. “I’ve given him nearly a decade, doing his fighting, fighting his battle... And this is how he repays me? He is to blame-“ I shushed him, without saying anything, just bringing our lips together and slowing his speech.</p><p>“I know, I know. He’s a fool. I just... I think he’s learned his lesson, paid enough.” I hid my face now, unable to look him in the eyes. He justified my avoiding his stare by dragging my lips along his jaw. As I twisted up, picking up speed, pulling him like a bowstring.</p><p>“When he apologizes, when he comes here on his knees,” he seemed to bite his tongue, and when he found me laughing at his poor word choice, he pinched me without any pain. I relished making the world's greatest runner have to catch his breath.</p><p>“I’ll do whatever he asks...” he faded at the end of his now-familiar decree. Too determined to let it drop, despite the state of him. He had his eyes wrenched closed now, stumbling on his words.</p><p>“And what of me?” I said, too breathy.</p><p>“Patroclus-” he started, almost chiding, but still rich with love. He was incapable of saying it any other way.</p><p>I caught a glimpse of him from above and felt my whole body shiver, focus abandoned.</p><p>“Would you do whatever I ask?” I didn't know where the question had come from. Or did I? I was surprised by the change in my voice, some strange sultriness I'd thought unfathomable. His eyelids fluttered, but he seemed thrilled at not having to think of Agamemnon or Achaian kings, his hands at my waist before I could see him move.</p><p>"What?" It came out as a breath.</p><p>“Do anything for me?” I cocked my head to the side, still buried by his ear, but he could feel my curiosity against him.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For you, I would take on the heavens.” On anyone else it would be hyperbole, the too-big promise of a fledgling hero, but for him it was all too plausible. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You would, wouldn’t you?” I said, glancing between us. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re teasing me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am not.” Maybe I was, but I felt just as teased. Overwhelmed by how honestly he spoke. He said it like he said everything, which such certainty, without any sense of doubt. </span>
</p><p>“Anything.” He said again and swallowed. I brushed my mouth on his throat. Then put my hands to each of his cheeks, hovered by with my lips.</p><p>“Anything?” Even yield? </p><p>“Yes.” My heart caught.</p><p>“Really?” I could feel myself losing the thread, so taken with how much I believed it. Before I realized he was lost in himself. And I hadn’t even asked the question that had nudged its way into my mind.</p><p>“Yes, god- yes.” He let out, far away, head in the clouds. But he was still beneath me, and I watched him before catching up myself, he always was fast.</p><p>Soon, not so far behind, I lost myself too. High on knowing that I was the one person, one being mortal or otherwise who he would surrender to.</p><p>My arms buckled beneath me, and I folded to his side, unable to carry my own weight any longer. He caught me with grace, even now his reflexes were sharper than any man on earth. He stared up, idly brushing my spine with his thumb, his chest shined with sweat as it lifted up and came back down.</p><p>I caught my breath, albeit slower. My sprint wasn't even his leisurely stroll. And then we lie there, breathing together. Heartbeats finding each other to run in sync, mine miraculously meeting his, unhindered by clumsiness for just a moment. Slowly, like waking from sleep, my bliss faded as I returned to myself and suddenly I felt washed over by guilt. I had misled him. Manipulated him, or entertained the idea of doing so? Unintentionally and yet... I knew that wasn’t quite true. I’d hoped, even prayed that I was enough to convince him, that I could be enough for him to give it up. That he cared so much for me he wouldn't care any longer. I’d hoped to twist his arm and felt sickened at myself for thinking it. He trusted me unflinchingly. I had stooped to thinking of him like a hero, like the game piece he was among the gods and kings, the way I hated.</p><p>He was still silent beside me, hand now covering his face. I felt nervous, embarrassed by what I’d done, what we’d done. And then he pulled me over in a deft stroke and braced our hips together, pressed his mouth to mine in a chuckle.</p><p>“My Patroclus, all this time and you still surprise me."  He stared at me, always unashamed. "I can’t even recall what I said,” I could feel his eyelashes on my cheeks, his throat bobbing in unbothered laughter. “You could ask anything of me and you’d have it,” he blinked again, thumbs upon my jaw. I immediately knew it had been foolish, even daring to indulge the thought. I'd overestimated what little power I had. He wouldn’t lose his resolve. My Achilles? Never.</p><p>I was not enough to sway him.</p><p>He rustled, finally, throwing the too-warm blanket from us, and gently pulling me to his chest. His arms wrapped around me, shielding me from everything outside. Then he leaned over, perhaps he was oblivious to the whirlwind in my head, or maybe he was just too tired to engage it. One of his hands came up, the same hand that held that spear I’d grown to look away from, and brushed my hair from my eyes. Then mine were met with green as I heard his voice like I’d heard it a hundred, a thousand times before.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>I exhaled, the words had to have been expected by now, after so many times, and yet they overwhelmed me all over. I could hear myself as I said it back to him. Meaning it without question and still feeling so burdened by all my frustrations.</p><p><em>I love you</em>, he'd said. He loved me. This I knew, and I loved him.</p><p>And yet it still was not enough.</p>
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